Archive of Our Own

The airport bathroom is dimly lit, yellowed out lights flickering like they might die at any moment, but the lighting doesn’t affect his reflection- or rather, the other boy’s face reflected in place of his own. For the first time in all his years of life, he recognises the face staring back at him. 

It’s someone he’s spoken to time and time again. Someone he’s supposed to meet today, in person, for the first ever time. 

Eyes the brightest blue known to man, hair the colour of sunshine- none other than Tommy. Ranboo’s sure his heart stopped beating moments prior.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and it’s a welcome distraction from the rising panic. A single, simple text from Tubbo.

Where r u???

Ranboo types out a quick and hasty reply, then pulls his sunglasses from his pocket and slips them on. Paired with his mask, his face is, as per usual, hidden from view. He’ll work out a better plan later, but for now, it’s all he can do.

He leaves the bathroom quickly and spots Tubbo across the terminal almost immediately. Right beside him stands Tommy, staring down at his phone, and Ranboo is hit with how irreversibly screwed he is.

How many times had he avoided looking into the mirror just so he could pretend the face looking back at him would be Tommy’s? How many times had he rewatched Tommy’s videos just so he can watch him , and not focus on what’s actually happening?

Now, all the nerves about this moment seem to hit him at once, washing over him and threatening to drown him like a tidal wave. 

Still, he presses on, weaving through the crowd. Finally, Tubbo spots him and waves him over, and Ranboo reaches them.

It takes Tubbo elbowing Tommy harshly in the ribs for him to realise Ranboo’s there; the second he does, he shoves his phone away and barrels into him full-force in a hug that drives the breath from his lungs.

“Ranboob!” he exclaims, and Tubbo just rolls his eyes from behind him. Ranboo lets out a small, soft laugh and returns the hug.

“Dad’s waiting,” Tubbo complains after a moment, and Tommy jumps back apologetically. 

“Yeah, uh, want me to grab a bag?” he asks.

Ranboo reluctantly agrees; he’s too tired to take it all himself, and though he hates the idea of his friends having to carry his stuff, he hates the idea of collapsing in the parking lot and causing them grief more. The three start their way out the airport, and Ranboo wonders once again how in hell he’s going to manage the next four months here, hiding his face from Tommy the entire time.

***********

Ranboo wakes in the guest room at some ungodly hour. It’s pitch-dark, and he’s sweating. Nightmare.

The details are already fading, but Ranboo can’t shake the unsettled feeling. Just his luck that his first night in the UK he has a nightmare, and a bad one at that.

After a few minutes, he realises he won’t be able to sleep, and draws in a breath. He then gets up, and carefully leaves his own room, crossing the hallway to Tommy’s room. He raps lightly on the door, the moonlight barely giving him enough light to see.

“Yeah?” comes the quiet, sleepy response, and Ranboo pushes the door open.

“Sorry,” is the first thing he says. “Bad dream. I don’t… I can’t sleep alone.”

He can hear the grin in Tommy’s reply. “So you have come crawling to my bed after all.”

Ranboo recalls a stupid conversation they had earlier; a faux argument after Tommy made some off-hand comment about how he’d have Ranboo come to his room during the night, which basically devolved into them trying to argue why the other would be louder in bed (Ranboo won, of course, and that was definitely the unbiased truth).

“Shut up,” he groans. “Do you mind, or will I have to go to Tubbo?”

Tommy grows serious fast. “No, no, it’s fine- I’ve got the room, we can share.”

Ranboo carefully feels his way around the room, almost tripping a few times before finally crawling under the covers. There’s a tense, thick silence.

Then Tommy reaches a hand out through the darkness and lightly traces along Ranboo’s jaw. The moment feels intimate, and special, and Ranboo somehow feels more okay with this than letting Tommy see his face.

They don’t speak. Tommy’s fingertips trace his features carefully, gently, like he’s mapping them out and committing them to memory.

“I used to have frequent nightmares as a kid,” Ranboo confesses into the pitch dark of the room as Tommy’s fingers brush over his chin. “My mom would hold me until I fell asleep, then carry me back to my room.”

Tommy pauses his movements, seeming to consider this. “Would you like me to hug you?”

Silence stretches thin between them. Tommy retracts his hand, breathing out heavily.

“Sorry, that was weird, I-”

“I’d like you to.” The words spill out before Ranboo can stop them. There’s a pause, a moment of deliberation, and then Tommy’s sliding his arms oh-so-carefully around Ranboo.

His head tucks neatly under Ranboo’s chin, and their legs tangle together. There’s no sound but their breathing, and Tommy slides a hand up to mess lightly with the back of Ranboo’s hair.

“Sleep, Ran,” he mumbles softly, and because of where his head is, it seems to vibrate through Ranboo’s chest.

It’s calming. It feels safe. He shuts his eyes slowly, breathes out slower.

When he falls asleep, it’s to the sound of Tommy’s breathing, and the feeling of fingers tangled lightly in his hair.

*********

Morning light filters into the room, waking Ranboo from his sleep. He’s still tangled up with Tommy, and he lets himself bask in it for a moment before the panic sets in. He pulls away from Tommy quickly, and turns to press his face into his pillow.

“Ran?” Tommy’s voice is groggy with sleep.

“Morning,” Ranboo says, voice muffled.

“You… You alright there?” There’s hurt in Tommy’s voice. It’s all too clear that he’s worried he’s made Ranboo uncomfortable somehow.

Ranboo presses his face harder into the pillow, feeling guilt wash over him. “It’s not your fault. I promise.”

Tommy’s tone is unreadable when he responds. “It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologising.” There’s some sounds of movement from the direction of Tommy. “You’ve got nothing to be fucking sorry about.”

Ranboo hates how nice Tommy is to him through all of this. Shouldn’t he be screaming, yelling, crying? Something, anything . Not this overwhelming understanding even when Ranboo is this elusive.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles again without meaning to. “I’m just so scared. It feels like… Like showing you will cross a line that I can’t uncross.”

“I understand.”

He doesn’t. Not at all. 

“It’s not about you. I swear, it’s not. I just…”

More movement, and then a hand running through his hair soothingly. Ranboo wants to cry.

“It’s okay, man. Really.” There’s a moment of silence. “Let me cover my eyes, and then you can go, alright?”

Ranboo chokes down a sob, nodding into the pillow he’s so firmly pressed his face into. Every part of him might break, he thinks, from it all.

The realisation, the stress of keeping it hidden, the hurt underlying Tommy’s tone no matter how hard he tries to hide it. It’s so much to handle, and yet he can’t stop to breathe now. He can’t rest for the next four months, and that hurts him more than anything else.

Ranboo wishes he didn’t have to do this. He wishes he could be bold and fearless and himself. He wishes he could uncover his face and be truly seen by Tommy.

But he’s too scared to, far too scared to, and nothing he can ever do will change that.

************

Tubbo’s bathroom is small and cramped. Ranboo stares at his own reflection, his mask and glasses sitting on the vanity just by his hand.

Panic is rising within him; his glasses slipped earlier, and he’s certain Tommy saw. He can’t handle the risk of rejection, and just the thought of it is making it hard to breathe.

“Ranboo? Everything alright in there?”

It’s Tommy. He can’t bring himself to respond, already halfway to a panic attack. He stares at himself, at the face Tommy has probably seen every day of his life. Then the bathroom door opens, and Ranboo freezes in place.

“Hey.” Tommy reaches up, grabbing Ranboo’s face lightly in his hands. “Breathe with me. In, and out. In, and out.”

Ranboo mirrors him, and calms somewhat, but Tommy being here , and seeing his face, makes it impossible to fully calm down. “I’m sorry.”

All he does nowadays is apologise, it seems. Tommy rolls his eyes at him, though.

“Stop fucking apologising,” Tommy says. “We’ve been over this.”

Ranboo bites back the urge to apologise yet again. “Well, now you know, huh?”

Tommy smiles at him. “Yeah. You didn’t need to worry about it, though.”

“I was just so scared you’d reject me, and I panicked, and I just-”

“Ranboo.” Tommy slides a hand down from Ranboo’s cheek to rest on his chest. “I like you.”

“Oh.” 

Tommy’s expression is one of poorly-concealed affection, dripping from every inch of it. “Idiot.”

“I deserve that,” Ranboo says. “I should’ve just told you.”

Tommy lets out a small laugh. “Yeah, you should’ve.”

Silence falls over them like a blanket. Ranboo dares to shift closer, and Tommy matches him without hesitation.

Deciding to be bold for once, Ranboo slides his hand up into the back of Tommy’s hair, and in one swift movement, pulls him up into a kiss. They press together, chest to chest, Tommy no doubt up on his toes to properly reciprocate.

A knock at the door draws them apart. Ranboo glances at Tommy; flushed, hair a mess, lips slightly swollen, and then at himself, in much the same state, and realises they’re screwed.

“Everything alright in there?”

Tommy takes his hand and gives it a light squeeze. “Fine! We’ll be out in a minute!”

Ranboo and Tommy lock gaze, and let out the tiniest, softest of giggles. They might be screwed in terms of Tubbo knowing, but they have each other, and that’s all that really matters anyway.